Slaying The Hydra
by retwin
Summary: Aaron and Marta take their lives back the hard way, ending the program by cutting off its many heads. Final Companion to They'll Bring No Flowers and The Art of Being Lost.
1. DAY EIGHT: The End

Slaying the Hydra

Eric Byer is a realist, a pragmatist unfettered by the dogma of society's moral doctrines. The world is what it is, and his job is to see that the excrement evacuated from a society sick with evil, not unlike cancer, is quickly cleaned up. His sole goal of late has been to contain an infection before it can taint his life's work any further. Byer is absolute in his belief that no one can fill his shoes or walk his line. In his eyes he is the only one truly strong enough to do whatever it takes to defend his country.

Because Eric Byer is a patriot, a man so enthralled with his country's heritage that he has become blinded to the gray areas which fade into black. He would fight for his country and he would kill to protect the ideals of men that sacrificed family and fortune to establish one of the greatest nations in the world. Byer is an American bolstered by the tales of obscure but great men like Gouverneur Morris who helped form the government, that Byer serves, and physically pen the Constitution of the United States of America.

Byer is powerful, untouchable. The stroke of his pen wipes clean many a slate with the destructive force of a nuclear explosion. One word falling from his lips, like a mythological deity, and lives become acceptable expenses. Inwardly, he revels in his place, but outwardly he portrays grim determination as though he is doing a dirty but needed job because it has to be done. Thankless and bloody that is what should be inked in red across his dossier.

His idealism led him here to this place through a maze of clandestine meetings and government sanctioned murders, gray areas blotted with black and mottled with crimson life blood.

Pulling his hand away from his side as he straightened up Eric stared uncomprehending at the bright smear blood on his fingers. Suddenly he is not untouchable. Gods don't bleed but men do; it is clear to him in that moment. Every step he has taken in the last week was not by his will but orchestrated by a lab rat of a man that refused to stay down.

"Cross," he mutters, darkness speckling his periphery as he looks off into the distance to a place he is sure his executioner lay. The name barely left his lips before the tell-tale whine-thunk of another bullet finding its target dead center of the man's forehead. Eric Byer dropped where he stood.


	2. DAY ONE

Author's Note: I realize that some of what is in the chapter requires you to suspend reality, but isn't that what makes the Bourne films so enticing? I mean really, some of it is skating on the edge of impossible and we love it! So, I ask that you just go with it…Enjoy!

Slaying the Hydra- DAY 1

Aaron frowned as he watched the man jogging down the tree-lined road. It was Saturday but the target went about the day as if it were a work day. He got up at four a.m. and was on the way to work by five. Breakfast consisted of juice, toast and some crazy egg white omelet that Aaron thought looked tasteless. Like clockwork the man was home from the office by seven and then he was out for a run. He had three distinct routes which Aaron had tracked and salted with tiny cameras and even a few slave devices that piggy-backed local security camera feeds and gave him a front row seat no matter which route the mark decided on.

They had been watching Byer for three weeks, were practically in his backyard and yet the man was oblivious to the surveillance centered on him. He never checked his home or his car for devices and Aaron changed his opinion on the man's intelligence. The lithe figure came to a halt in the center of the road beside his driveway and he bent over panting as he wiped sweat from his forehead and made his way to the front door. Absently, Aaron noted that Byer favored his right leg and had a pronounced limp that was only obvious to someone trained to see in minutia.

Byer stopped at his mailbox and pulled out the few envelopes it contained. Rotating his neck to relieve some of the lingering stress of the day, Eric Byer flipped through his mail. Aaron knew the instant he found it, the envelope that was postmarked from Bangkok. Mainly, because as cool and confident as Byer was he was not as proficient at subterfuge as the men he ordered about like so many pawns on a chess board. The envelopes had been arriving for weeks and the nervous way Eric Byer glanced around before tearing open the missive spoke of a man not wholly comfortable with what was inside.

Dumping the contents out as he walked a picture fluttered to the ground. Aaron watched through the crosshairs as Byer bent to pick it up and was almost glad to see the color drain from the man's face. Aaron knew that picture well; it had indelibly etched its image on the inside of his brain and refused to be forgotten. It was the youngest of LARX-3's victims and the only obviously personal connection to Eric Byer. LARX-3 had a file full of pictures of Ameche Trang and many of them were of the young intern following Byer and Dita around as they conducted business.

Most of LARX-3's victims were hunted outside the United States but Trang was proof positive that the asset had hunted within the US prior to entering the program. Marta remembered the news reports when the young woman's body was found. The FBI had been adamant that the case mirrored several other murders ranging over the last ten years, but that the killer had suddenly escalated showing signs of increased awareness to detail. The body dumbs were always meticulous and not even a stray hair from the victims was found within thirty feet of the drop. It was suggested that perhaps the serial killer they had been hunting was now working with a partner.

Aaron knew the truth; it was science that gave the sociopathic asset the edge and Marta was beside herself when she realized what exactly Hillcott had been working on after he handed Outcome over to her. She felt responsible, but Aaron had talked her off of that ledge. She was not actively working the LARX program and she should try to remember that.

"You'll have enough to answer for when the time comes, Marta. We can only take responsibility for what we do, not what we might have done." She had appeared so broken when he said this, but after a good cry and a thousand apologies. Which, he forgave by worshiping her body for thirty-six hours straight; Marta was fine, a lethargic puddle in the center of their bed, but emotionally better.

Byer entered the house and Aaron lowered the rifle to rest on its mount and slid off the table. The sniper blind was in the attic of the house Rose and Charles Gordon purchased two blocks away from Eric Byer. The exclusive neighborhood had been surprisingly easy to infiltrate and buying the house, one of the older more lived in ones, had been almost too easy. The elderly woman living in the house previously had no family so they purchased it furniture and all. The realtor was just so glad to be selling the out-of-date house that he had taken care of everything including expressing the papers to Palawan for the couple to sign. The man had mailed them the keys and even turned on the utilities for them. On paper it looked as if the Gordon's had been living in the house for nearly three months

Getting back into the states had been simpler than they expected, which was disturbing for Marta because she always thought the borders were secure, as if fifty miles from shore there was a security net just waiting to nab non-US citizens. It had been an eye opener that all they needed was a small yacht and a sunny day. Edgar got them as far as Japan when fate stepped in and gave them a golden, if tragic, opportunity to avoid customs as volunteers. Three of the other missionary families also traveled to Japan on that trip and in the havoc of aftershocks and nuclear power plant fires the authorities never even looked twice at the passports of Rose and Charles Gordon.

An earthquake of considerable magnitude striking Niigata was not anywhere in Aaron's plans. But two weeks after they began planning their return to the US a 6.8 magnitude quake set the ball rolling and Aaron would not let it stop until they were back in the United States. After Japan it was so simple it was almost scary. Once they arrived in the CONUS a meandering five day road trip gathering the rest of Aaron's squirreled away money, passports and supplies was all that lay between them and the start of the end of the Program.

Checking that the blind was still securely hidden Aaron headed down stairs to the dining room; which was doubling as his workstation. It seemed incongruous, upon first glance, the multitude of laptops and monitors littering the far end of the old fashioned table adorned with an old lace tablecloth. Marta said it reminded her of her great-grandmother's dining room with the china hutch and display shelves lined with antique salt and pepper shakers. Looking at it before he moved his computer equipment into the room Aaron had instantly felt welcomed by the house. Never having grown up in a particularly loving environment it was as if the house personified family. It was strange since the woman living here had none.

Marta looked up from the cookbook she was reading with a soft smile on her face, "Did it come?"

"Yeah," he nodded, moving behind her to wrap his arms around her shoulders he kissed Marta gently on the temple before looking over her shoulder. "Waffles," he asked with an almost boyish laugh.

"For tomorrow," she says with a mock scowl reaching up to tweak his nose. "It is Sunday and Sunday breakfast is supposed to always be something special."

"Really," he asked with a bemused smile, "I can't wait, Doc." She was such a curious mix, he thought studying her features as she turned back to the well-used cookbook. She was all business professional in the lab or at the hospital on Palawan and want to-be domestic woman at the farm or in this house.

"I think we should go ahead and take advantage of his complacency," Marta murmured, without looking up as she flipped the page. "We need access to his home computer."

Aaron stepped away from her to sit at the other end of the table in front of his monitors. "The house is wired," he argued with a frown between his expressive eyes.

Sighing, Marta closed the cookbook and brought her equally expressive gaze to Aaron's. "I know you haven't breached his computer because you think that might be the one place he has top-notch security. You don't want to tip our hand, but reality is that we need in or we will be here for months trying to accomplish what you could do in mere days if I wasn't here."

Aaron's chest tightened at the mere thought of Marta not being here with him. She had been a touchstone of sorts during the program and now she was his home. "I wouldn't be doing any of this if you weren't here," he told her plainly, his voice hard edged. "I would have most likely ended up dead in a gutter somewhere or gibbering like an idiot in some half-way house."

"That isn't what I am talking about and you know it," she smacked her palm down on the table for emphasis. "You are playing it safe because you don't believe I can help you. You don't trust me to do what you trained me to do!"

Aaron shoved his chair away from the table and planted his hands on the table leaning across to hiss angrily, "I am playing it safe because you are everything I have never deserved, Marta, and I won't lose you because I lacked patience!"

Closing his eyes and taking a deep calming breath Aaron stood up putting a little more distance between his admission and himself. He heard the soft sigh that escaped Marta's lips and the scrape of her chair as she stood. In his mind's eye he could see the soft look she always wore when he admitted how precious she was to him.

He was not surprised when her mouth claimed his or when she insinuated herself between him and the dining room table. She always reacted passionately when he admitted that he cared just as he felt like a roaring lion whenever the words 'I love you' slipped from her lips. Her tongue swept aggressively into his mouth and Aaron wrapped his hands in her waist length hair. He pressed forward bending her backward over the table, but she resisted planting her palms flat against his chest and pushing him back, mating her mouth to his.

They stumbled backward when Aaron's legs hit his abandoned chair nearly knocking it over as he sat down hard. His eyes were heavy with desire as Marta slipped astride his lap with a wanton smile that set his heart pumping and hardened his cock.

Then she was kissing him again and her slender fingers were fighting with his belt and unbuttoning his jeans with reckless urgency. Aaron's calloused hands traced her silken thighs under her skirt and would probably leave fingertip sized bruises where he gripped her pulling her hard against him. Her hand around his straining flesh, stroking and squeezing, drug a groan from his throat and emptied his mind of anything except his need to be inside her.

Aaron did not bother to remove her panties he simply lifted her up, pushed them aside and took what was his. The broken cry that left her lips heightened his desire as he clutched and thrust and filled her. Their mating was wild and Marta's gasps and his groans were accompanied by the creaking of an old wooden chair that had no other destiny than to cradle them.

Marta came, ripping her mouth from his she flung her head back and trembled around him and Aaron could have wept at how beautiful she was in that instant. Swallowing hard he slowed his trusts and instead of erratic thrusts Aaron used languid strokes that sent shivers down her spine. Leaning forward he nuzzled her breast and using one hand to hold her steady Aaron used the other to tear her blouse open. She was braless and Aaron smiled as he took her breast in his mouth and nibbled and suckled as he worked himself and Marta back into a sensual frenzy.

Marta had confided after her first orgasm with Aaron that it had been her first with a partner; sex had always been enjoyable but just not earth shattering. Aaron had taken that to heart and made it a challenge for himself to give her as many earth shattering orgasms as was possible. She was cresting her second when he could not restrain himself any longer; his groan was stifled by her breast but it still echoed through the dining room.

Panting and sweaty they held tightly to each other as the enjoyed the residual effects of their mutual pleasure. Releasing her nipple with a soft pop Aaron tilted his head back and Marta pressed her forehead to his.

"In the morning," she whispered, stroking his stubble roughened cheeks, "You go over there and get us access to that computer. Come what may; agreed?"

Aaron nodded. Marta was right they needed to end this as soon as possible if they were ever going to have even a remote possibility of living a normal life. A life that would include sex in the dining room and special breakfast on Sunday mornings and maybe if the gods were especially benevolent they might even have a real family.


	3. DAY TWO

Slaying the Hydra- DAY TWO

Aaron was sifting through the information contained on Eric Byer's hard-drive. In the end it was a good call, cloning the drive and installing a small bit of malicious software, which essentially gave Aaron the ability to see every key stroke Byer made. While he was at it Aaron created a hidden file and uploaded all of LARX-3's video files. It would appear, to anyone searching the computer later that Byer tried to erase the files when the shit hit the fan, further incriminating the man that spear headed the LARX program. Aaron didn't pretend not to know that the LARX experiments were implemented because of the times he had bumped heads with the arrogant sod. He had been too human for Byer's taste and the man must have gotten tired of flying into war zones to placate their lead asset.

Going through the internet history on the computer was an eye-opener. Evidently, Byer was going to do his part to help Aaron and Marta tear his life out from under him; like he had torn their lives away from them. Aaron didn't bother visiting any of the pornographic sites in the log, but he did set his computer to log all keystrokes used when Byer visited certain government and banking websites. It might seem petty but Aaron had every intension of taking everything Byer had to offer besides his physical life. They had more than enough information about the programs than they would actually need and things were moving quickly according to all of their plans.

Marta was at the sink cleaning up after _Special_ Sunday breakfast. Aaron looked up when she chuckled. Her gaze was focused on the children running rampant in the street and her hands and the front of her shirt was covered in soap suds. She rinsed her hands and wiped them on a small hand towel as she started drying the dishes.

It was such a domestic scene that Aaron felt an odd clenching in his chest. Was this what it was like for people like Marta growing-up? Rising early to make oddly shaped waffles that tasted great but looked like science experiments gone a rye and joking about it while licking syrup from your fingers. It was a beautiful image and Aaron found himself standing by her side taking the dish towel and dropping a deep kiss on her smiling lips.

"You don't have to," she protests softly, but he just kisses her again and begins drying another plate. Once the counters are wiped and the dishes put away, where they have been for, Aaron was sure, the last thirty-odd years, it was time to set in motion the next phase of their plan.

Eric Byer was pissed!

The damned letters kept coming; all hand addressed by a dead man. LARX-3 had been perfect except for his penchant for stalking, torturing and killing young Asian women. Byer knew it was a risk selecting the operatives he did for the program, but it was necessary. Treadstone produced mentally compromised assets and Outcome produced exceptional agents but was hindered by the constant noise of human emotion. The idea had come to him shortly after dealing with one too many emotional operatives. He was tired of spending valuable time coddling his pet assassins as if they were preschool children. Hilcott had been only too happy to begin trials on the purple pill, but in the end the answer had been in the choosing of the operatives from a subset of sociopaths. Only LARX-3 had been chosen without regard to his proclivities. Byer could give a rat's ass about a few street whores and junkies put out of their misery by 3. It was only after 3 took it upon himself to stalk and kill Byer's own aid that the boundaries were changed regarding operative selection. And that change gave them a successful, emotionally indifferent group of assets.

They were fast, deadly and unconcerned with preserving their own lives or the lives of those around them. It had been a bit of a shock to realize this was what would ultimately render every operative unusable. Some lasted five missions, but most ended up dead within three. No fear of physical harm led to an asset doing the equivalent of banging their heads against a steel spike. They took chances that men afraid for their lives would never take; which, lead inevitably to death.

Manila had FUBAR from the start; Shearing and Outcome 5 had a seventeen hour head start and Sterlsyn Morlanta's man on the ground was as thick as a post. Realistically, Byer knew that he would have to go after Aaron himself. He toyed with the idea of sending the local Bangkok police to the address of LARX-3's last nest, but decided against this when he realized they might find out the man had been responsible for a fair amount of their unsolved murders. No, he would have to make plans to cleanse Bangkok himself. LARX-3's handler did not even have clearance to know about the man's extracurricular activities; so, she would be useless in this instance.

Sitting down at his desk, Byer pulled a leather bound book from the drawer. It was filled with his observations of all his operatives. Even Aaron Cross was notated on more than one occasion in the heavy tome. Pulling a wedge of scotch tape from the dispenser Byer taped the envelope to one side of the page and then the photo and notes on the facing page. The writing on the handwritten notes was a perfect match for the dead asset, but Byer knew it was Cross playing with him. Taunting him really, but that was okay because Cross' game backfired and now Byer knew where he and Dr. Shearing were hiding. Closing the book and placing it carefully into the locked desk drawer Eric booted his computer and sighed when it took an exponential amount of time to load. He must have gotten another virus. "Fucking porn sites and their communicable diseases," he laughed at his own wit and accessed his work e-mail.

"Aaron," Marta called loudly as she bounced up the stairs into his attic sniper blind. She was giddy as she launched herself at the man crotched over the M40A3, bolt-action sniper rifle.

"Doc," he murmurs, smiling when she wraps her arms around his neck and nearly squeals in his ear. "I take it the program worked."

"It did," she sighs happily. "He sent out a memo not ten minutes ago pulling the warrants."

Aaron gently let the rifle rest on the stand and turned to face Marta. Byer had taken the bait and it was time to set in motion the next phase of their plan, but he really did not want to go through with this part. It was only a hunch on Aaron's part that if they poked and prodded him with LARX-3 the man would rescind the kill or capture order on Aaron Cross and Marta Shearing, but it had worked and Aaron could not pass up this chance to nail the bastard. "I have to go."

"Aaron," she groans, and he can hear worry in her voice as she tempts him. "Tonight?"

She doesn't want him to leave any more than he wants to go. Maybe they had time, "When is he leaving," he asked as he began unbuttoning her blouse.

"The day after tomorrow," she grins knowing she has won this argument, but Aaron doesn't mind. They deserve a little celebration before all hell breaks loose again.


	4. DAY THREE

Slaying the Hydra DAY 3

Marta fidgeted nervously. She had not been out in public, like this, in so long she could barely remember what it was like to stride confidently into a lab and go about her business. Thanks to Aaron's software they now knew where to find the collated data from Sterlsyn Morlanta's Maryland laboratory. It was unfortunate that the information was on a secure server that was not accessible from the internet, but Marta was going to get that data packet if it killed her.

Aaron was in Bangkok setting up the task force with Edgar's help. Byer did not know what he would be walking into and Aaron had assured her that even though she was in America he would make sure she had a front row seat. The location of the background science for Outcome was a surprise that almost made Aaron change plans and stay in the States until they could get their hands on the _Holy Grail_, as it were. It was only after a spectacular argument and furious make-up sex that Aaron saw it her way.

Now, as she waited to be granted entrance to the secure location Marta was rethinking her idea. The man behind the desk was studying her credentials as if he could count the molecules. She had planned this herself and she would be seriously ticked if Aaron was correct.

"I don't have all day," she sighed impatiently, "I know you received Mr. Byer's e-mail granting me access to these files. I have a printed confirmation." Marta pulled a folded sheet of paper from her briefcase and slammed it onto the counter.

The guard frowned and picked up the paper. It was on Byer's own letterhead and even had a note hastily scrolled across the bottom in Aaron's approximation of Byer's handwriting, which, pretty much suggested that Iceland would be the next post of anyone hindering her assignment. Aaron had signed the note with an angry flourish which made the guard pale a little. Of course Aaron had only been angry because she was forcing his hand in regard to letting her handle the science while he set –up the decapitation of the heads of the National Assay Research Group. It was only after she pointed out that if they did not take control of the science the head would just grow back and be more assiduous than before that Aaron caved in and helped her plan.

"I'm sorry ma'am," the guard apologized as he handed her papers and identification card back.

"You can't be too careful, I understand. And I am sorry I was rude, but Iceland isn't my idea of a groovy vacation spot."

"No," the man laughed, "it's cold as hell." Pushing the button, the man held it until a bell sounded and the door behind him unlocked. "I hated it there."

"It should only be twenty minutes or so," she murmured with a slight smile. "I will be sure and tell Mr. Byer how helpful you were in obtaining access to these very necessary documents."

"Thank you, Dr. Shearing," the man was very sincere and she almost felt bad about using him to advance their plans, but she shoved that aside and nodded as she pulled the door open.

After she was inside the archive room Marta quickly donned a pair or silicone gloves and used Byer's own access code to enter the refrigeration unit and retrieve the only remaining samples of the live virus and placed them inside the small thermos she had tucked into her briefcase and replaced them with harmless bottles of liquid reagent.

Next, Marta replaced the few paper files with blank sheets of printer paper. It was a risk taking the hardcopy information but Marta did not want to leave anything to chance, tucking the used pages into the file folders she brought with her. Chuck, the security guard had noted the files, but they were sealed when he searched her bag. They would be sealed still if he checked her possessions on the way out.

It had only been ten minutes by the time Marta was sitting in front of the archaic looking monitor and carefully entering her user name and password; which immediately gave her access to the Sterlsyn and Morlanta files. She could not believe that they did not even bother to delete her access codes. It was almost as if the Three Stooges were running the whole operation, but then again they probably figured she would be dead and little treat to their security.

Quicker than she thought possible she was typing in the lines of code that Aaron assured her would give her access to the computer system. This was the hard part; if the code did not work or if the access was behind a more secure firewall than was expected Marta would be a sitting duck. She willingly walked into this locked room and if the shit hit the fan, as Aaron liked to say, she would be contained inside with no escape.

Finishing the code Marta hit enter and immediately the computer began moving the files to the company server and then parceling them off in e-mails to Eric Byer's home account. From there the files would be routed through proxy servers and onto a computer in Bangkok; which would conveniently be confiscated during a sting operation to catch a serial murderer. It was taking longer than it should and it was making Marta even more nervous. It would appear that Eric Byer was behind the deaths of the women in America and Bangkok as well as cast the pall of corporate espionage on his decorated career.

Marta allowed herself a moment to indulge in a fantasy about what his face would look like when he realized his entire life was being systematically burned to the ground. The computer sounded and Marta quickly exited the station and removed her gloves tucking them into her pocket. She secured her briefcase and entered the exit code for the door. Chuck was waiting when she stepped out and she easily handed him her bag. He opened it and glanced inside but everything was exactly as it was before she went into the room.

"Have a good day," he said handing her briefcase back to her.

"You, too, Chuck." Marta walked sedately out the front door and to her rented Volvo. She was even calm as she drove the hour and a half circuitous drive back to Reston, Virginia. Pulling the car into their garage however marked the end of her calm demeanor and Marta very nearly hyperventilated. The only thing that kept her from passing out was the ringing of her cell phone.

Fumbling, Marta pulled the phone from the cup holder and flipped it open, "H—hello."

"Hey," Aaron's voice was a soothing rumble in her ear.

"Aaron," she gasped, "I—I did it."

"I know," his words sounded like a knowing smile as he murmured, "You did good, Doc. Did you change cars?"

"Yes," she answered, "In Bethesda."

"Did you notice anyone following you?"

"No," she shook her head as she spoke. "I dropped the rental at the lot and took a taxi to the bus station, like we planned and I changed clothes and put on the baseball cap before I left to pick up our car."

"You did great, Doc." He assured her one more time and it was a comfort to her the pride she could hear in his voice. There was a sudden burst of talking in the background and Aaron laughed. "Tala and Pacifico are giving me hell for not bringing you with me."

"Next time," she murmured. "Are you safe?"

"Safe as houses, Doc. Make sure you keep the security system set and watch Byer's house. He doesn't board his plane for another thirty minutes and we won't know until he gets here if he was notified about the visit to the lab storage facility."

"I will," she swallowed, "Be careful."

"Always," he sighed. "I hate this," Marta could tell that he was worried about her. "Keep the thirty-eight and your phone on you."

"I will," she murmured. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Doc." He returned, "More than you know."


	5. DAY FOUR

Slaying the Hydra – DAY FOUR

Aaron lay perfectly still and even the rhythmic cadence of his breathing did not disclose his location. Byer was just feet away, but the man would step on Aaron before he picked him out of the surrounding area. The morning was dawning humid and that made the heavy urban camouflage Aaron wore even more unbearable, but he did not move a muscle. Not even when a rat nosed out of a crevasse and ran the length of his body after it found its way to Aaron's hiding place. It was just like the dogs. The rat did not seem to process Aaron as a human or indeed as a threat of any kind, which disturbed Aaron on a visceral level. His earwig clicking three times drew Aaron from his internal ruminations on what exactly the hell had been done to him.

Edgar and his team were coordinating with the Thai police to capture the 'Monster' behind the brutal slayings of so many local women and the clicks were being used to reduce comm-chatter by signaling that the target was approaching the lair of the dead LARX asset. Of course, only Aaron and Edgar knew the real serial murderer was already dead; the Thai police were just serving a purpose in Aaron's overall plan to decapitate this head of the program.

Flicking his thumb over the control for the helmet camera Aaron began broadcasting the footage via wireless satellite up-link to the computers dedicated to capturing the sting-operation in all of its high definition glory. There was a time delay of about forty minutes and then Aaron would be streaming the footage to Marta as soon as the action started, but he would have plenty of cushion-time in case he had to pull the plug on the transmission. As long as everything goes smoothly Aaron would maintain the link and Marta could see the man that sold her world arrested.

Byer stopped in the alley adjacent to Aaron's hiding place and glanced around with a frown. To think this man was in charge of the government's most advanced warriors and he had the fucking survival instincts of road-kill. Aaron had picked him up in the Airport earlier that day and hand-delivered the man to his suite at his hotel and as far as Aaron could tell the man had no clue that he was being watched. It was either conceit or ignorance, either way Aaron is amazed the man helmed such a clandestine operation without getting everyone killed. It would not be until much later, after Byer was sitting in a Bangkok interrogation room, that Aaron understood that Eric Byer simply believed he was untouchable. It literally never occurred to him that his dirty hands might pose a problem for him personally.

A fly landed on Aaron's forehead and made a lingering, ticklish, trail through the sweat and grime on the only part of Aaron's face not covered by the balaclava, but he ignored the irritating insect keeping his eye on the target that was now only four feet away from Aaron as he turned into the ally. Byer knew exactly where the entrance to the killer's monument to himself was located, which was good because the Thai police might have question his involvement if he could not even find the door. Aaron had banked on the fact that Byer would have been the one to procure a location for his pet sociopath and it paid off.

As Byer passed, he paused to adjust the bag over his right shoulder and Aaron could hear sloshing and smell the distinctive smell of the kerosene. Obviously, the man had been busy since Aaron left him at his hotel. Aaron toggled his radio once giving the team the signal that the rabbit was in the hole as soon as the door was open and the target was inside. The idea had been to give Byer enough time inside to add more fuel to the proverbial fire, but the man intended to destroy the evidence so Aaron signaled the team that he intended to move on the Tango.

Slinging the sniper rifle over his shoulder and stealing out of the nook he had laid wait in Aaron scaled the side of the building silently entering the darkened room from above. It was a warehouse with a loft-like upper floor. Byer did not bother to secure the rest of the building, which spoke of a desk chair soldier. He found the man standing in the center of the room staring in what Aaron thought might be devastation. He wondered if this was a feast that the self-proclaimed Sin-Eater would not be able to swallow, but then Byer cursed and began tearing the photos from the walls. The bag containing the kerosene was in the far corner and Aaron could not allow him to burn this room. Toggling his radio he signaled the locals to move in; Aaron would make sure the man and his method of destruction stayed separated.

Predictably, the Thai police made an ungodly racket startling Byer and causing him to step toward his bag. Aaron swiftly pulled the rifle from his shoulder and placed a bullet into the concrete between the man and his bag. Byer froze and his hands instinctively went out to his sides showing he was unarmed. Aaron watched the man's head twitch and he knew Byer wanted desperately to turn and look for the man behind the bullet poke mark in the floor. Smirking, Aaron watched as Edgar and the locals breached the room and quickly took the man to his knees. Slipping backward into the shadows he disappeared the way he came just as they turned Byer toward the door. Dropping back down to the street Aaron knelt beside the shooting mat he left in his hiding place and broke down his weapon quickly slipping the components into the correct slots and then he was moving again.

Moving quickly through the streets to the mobile operation station Aaron ripped the balaclava off his head and flashed the badge he pulled from his cargo pants and hung it around his neck. The excitement within the small van was something that you could nearly see painting the air around the men as Aaron climbed in and handed his roll to Carlos. He was one of the Palawan team that Aaron worked with before he and the Doc left to return state side.

"We got him," Aaron murmured as he watched the monitors which was playing real-time the events inside the building a few blocks away.

"Yes," the man smiled and handed Aaron a bottle of water. Carlos was one of the few in this operation that spoke English and even though Aaron always used the local dialect while dealing with the team Carlos still spoke English every damned time. It was like a game to him and Aaron, a bit of camaraderie that took some of the stress out of the tense situations they found themselves in over the last few months before Aaron left the team. "We did; so, what is next?"

"I have to get back to the states," Aaron sighed, it had been three days since he left the Doc and he felt like it had been three years. It was strange when he was running ops for Outcome it had been the only really bright part of completing his missions the prospect of a fifteen minute check-up by Dr. Shearing. He had lived to sit in that sterile room and have five or ten minutes to flirt with the pretty, reserved doctor before she put him out and scraped his every soft spot. It was impersonal and safe, those moments in that room, but now he knows how she tastes and the sound of her breathing in the dark. He found he could not stand to be on the other side of the world from her.

"Well," Carlos smiled, "I cannot help you there, but maybe," the man clapped Aaron on the shoulder and turned to a computer station to the left of the main monitor that showed the police collecting the evidence from LARX-3's lair. Carlos pushed a few buttons and then a drowsy woman appeared on the screen and Aaron felt his breath leave his body in relieve and his heart lifted immediately. "There you are."

"Carlos," Marta's voice sounded a little frightened. "I can't see him," her eyes darted around the screen she was sitting in front of and Aaron could not keep himself from stepping up to the monitor and brushing his fingers along her televised cheek. The relief that immediately covered her face made Aaron's heart stutter and a matching smile spread across his own features.

"Oh, Doc," he grinned and sat down in the empty chair so that she would have a good view of his face. Carlos handed Aaron a headset and plugged it in as he pulled the listening device onto his head. "You should be asleep," he murmured.

"As if I could sleep," she chastised him, "You're on the other side of the planet." She was running her eyes all over his face and her hand came into view and he knew she was outlining his face the same way he was doing hers. "You look so tired."

"Well," he smiled and leaned closer to the screen as if he were about to divulge a secret, "I can't seem to sleep without a certain doctor hogging the blanket."

She laughed and bit her lip as she responded, "Well, blanket thievery isn't nearly as much fun when you are alone." Her face became serious, "Is it done?"

"Yeah, Doc, we got him about twenty minutes ago."

"Good," she nodded. "Are you coming home now?"

Aaron felt his heart squeeze at the question; home. He had a home. He had not thought of it that way before, but that old house in Reston, Virginia had definitely become that for him. Without the Doc though it would just be four walls filled with someone else's memories and personal effects.

"Soon," he nodded his voice gravelly and he knew she could see the emotion on his face. "I just need to make sure Byer gets the message. How are things on your end?"

"There was an attempt on Pamela Landy's life," she sighed. "She's in the hospital at Bethesda National Naval Medical Center."

"Shit," he swore, "That was unexpected. I figured Byer would be using her as the scapegoat during the investigations."

"She fired her counsel and hired Brad Dolen," Marta informed him. "Maybe they thought she would have too big a chance of shifting things back on them if they did not have her lawyers in their pocket."

"It is possible," Aaron nodded. Dolen was a former Marine that became a lawyer after an improvised explosive device exploded mangling his Humvee taking his legs. It was a common enough occurrence. But it did not make it any less tragic. Dolen could have lain down and given up but instead he had struggled to regain his mobility. Once that battle was won he moved on to earning his law degree. He had made a name for himself in a short period of time as the champion of the Constitution and the rights of every American. Many of his cases had been public media events, but the man was dedicated and fair. From what Aaron could tell from his interviews he was a patriot and an honorable man. "She made a good call there. But, I think we need to go ahead and make contact. I'll go straight to the hospital from the airport and see if I can't feel her out."

Marta sighed and pursed her lips and Aaron knew he was about to lose another argument. It was sad really that he could tell he was out gunned just by the look in her eyes, but that was one of the things he loved most about her. She was not a shrinking violet that could not stand up to his intensity. Before she even spoke Aaron was calculating how much quicker he could get to Bethesda if he left for the Airport immediately. The truth was that it would take nearly twenty hours to get CONUS and that did not count travel time during rush hour traffic.

"Aaron," she said exasperated, "You aren't even listening to me."

"I heard every word, Doc!" He may not have appeared to be listening but he would have been dead long ago if he couldn't listen and plan at the same time. "Let me think," he sighed when her eyes registered hurt at the strident tone he had used. "Forgive me, Doc, if the idea of you setting foot on a military compound makes me sick to my stomach."

"It is a hospital," she reminded him.

"With military guards," he countered.

"I don't plan to go alone," she informed him. "I plan to call Dolen."

"Hell, no," Aaron felt his heart drop into his stomach and he itched to step through the computer screen and lock her in the attic until this whole thing was over and done. He knew it was irrational, but he could not lose her. "I'm nothing without you," he muttered. "Contacting Dolen is too dangerous. They have probably already moved on him and he is just as big a target as Landy."

"We need to move fast now," she reminded him and he hated that she was using his own words to poke holes in his defenses. "You said so yourself when we were planning this. You said Byer would be tied up in Bangkok for only a day maybe two before he found a way out from under the charges."

She must have known she was winning because she continued confidently, "I rented three hotel rooms at three different hotels. I delivered a bouquet of flowers to his office with my real name on the card. I planted a burner phone in the bottom of the pot tomorrow I will call him and set up a meet."

"You thought of everything didn't you," he felt angry and scared and that was part of what made him so resistant to her plan.

"Not everything," she shook her head. "I still need you here I won't feel secure until I'm in your arms, but I won't lose the chance to decapitate this thing once and for all."

"God," he shook his head, "I really hate this."

"What," she asked with a slight smile, "delegating?"

"No," he smiled, reticently. "Losing arguments; if I were there you would not be putting yourself in danger like this."

"Yes, I would." He knew she was right, "Besides," she smirked, "you are just upset you are there and not here so you can use sex to try and get your way."

"Well," he chuckled and he felt a little warm. He wondered if his face telegraphed everything he was thinking to everyone or if she just knew him too well, "there is that."

"Don't worry," she leaned into the camera, "I'll be waiting for you when you get home."

"You better be," he commanded, solemnly.

"I'll be careful," she assured him and pressed a kiss to her fingers and then placed them on the computer screen. Aaron smiled and did the same.

"I'm on the first plan out of here," he told her and he knew she could hear his worry.

"Good," she nodded. "Tell Carlos thank you for this. I was so worried before he called and said that you were finished."

"I will," Aaron assured her, "Get some sleep."

"I don't want to go," she whispered and her voice was so soft and warm in his ear that Aaron could feel it all the way to the heart of him.

"Don't worry," he promised with a smile. "I'll be home soon."


	6. DAY FIVE

Slaying the Hydra – DAY FIVE

Ric Byer prided himself on being calm and collected in every situation. Others, they reacted emotionally, predictably by raising their voices and physical shows of aggravation. He did not. He alone was the cold calm in the heat of battle; the rational in the chaotic.

So, he sat stoic, calm and silent in the sweltering heat of Bangkok even though all hell had just started raining down around him. The room they had him in was dirty, cinderblock with peeling paint and mildew growing unchecked in the corners, evidence of water leaching into the wall; the combination of wet and heat creating a breeding ground for mold. He was chained to the metal table with heavy manacle-like cuffs and he did not speak the native tongue; so, he should have felt unmoored and desperate. He did not. Instead he felt angry that he had not considered this turn in the road.

Every question yelled in his face by the police officer was answered with a quietly uttered, "Diplomatic immunity."

It was becoming tedious, but about an hour ago the questioning had changed as they brought in a man who spoke English, at least passably, and the man seemed to find his answer amusing.

"Does this," the man began in heavily accented English as he smiled and gestured to the dodgy looking room, "Look like a place that your diplomatic immunity will do you good?"

Ric glanced around and he felt a slight trill of fear. The answer was no; this room looked like the sort of place people were brought to die. The dark tinged on one section of the wall looked as if it might have been splattered with some substance that left behind a grotesque stain. The man laughed as he watched Byer lick his lips; it was the first sign that perhaps the prisoner was human after all.

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing to the wall behind Byer. "I think you finally understand that you are not in America Mr. Byer."

It irked Byer that the interrogator knew he had scored a point off of his hide but the only overt show of reaction was the tightening of his hands into fists as they lay on the table in front of him. "You will regret this," Byer murmured calmly as he lifted his chin and met the other man's eyes.

"I doubt that," these quietly drawled words caused Ric Byer's eyes to widen; he knew that voice.

"Cross," Ric muttered and slowly turned to find Outcome 5 leaning against the wall in full tactical gear. He had not even heard the door open and close.

His interrogator spoke to the man against the wall in a flurry of foreign words and gestured to Byer, but Cross simply laughed answering with a shake of his head.

"This man is a criminal," Byer informed the man across the table as he turned around to face him. It went against everything in his brain to turn his back on the trained agent, but he did it anyway. He wanted to make the point that Ric Byer was not afraid of the laboratory rat.

"Yeah," Cross laughed, "He knows." The interrogator stood up and tossed a pair of keys to Aaron as he left the room. "Lucky for me my fairy godfather took care of dropping the arrest warrant with my name on it."

"If you kill me," Byer threatened.

"What," Cross asked as he moved to lean into the man and speak directly into his ear, "What are you gonna do? What? Will you send a drone to blow me to hell or will you just send another of your scientifically created automatons, because that worked out well the first time. Do you even have one of those left? It must have been a kick in the pants to realize the highly efficient and emotionally stinted assets have a habit of dying. Millions of dollars wasted because they feel nothing, no pain, no emotion and no sense of self-preservation."

"What is it you think you will accomplish here," Byer asked refusing to turn and acknowledge the man leaning into his personal space.

"Well," Aaron murmured straightening up and rounding the table. "Two things actually; the first, well, that is pretty simple exposure and the second is closure."

Byer frowned, "I don't understand?"

"Did you know that one of the women your man killed was the daughter of a high-ranking Thai official," Cross asked as he pulled the chair out away from the table and sat down propping his feet on the corner of the hard surface. "Yeah, I didn't think so." Aaron tsked, "You took my life, you plastered my face all over the news branding me a terrorist and you tried more than once to kill me. Did you think I would not retaliate?"

Byer did not answer, but Aaron could see the answer in the man's eyes that he thought he was the top of the food chain, untouchable. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so damned sad because until this incident Byer really had been untouchable.

"And what about Dr. Shearing," Byer asked.

"You really pissed her off," Aaron answered nonchalantly as he watched Byer for any sign the man understood exactly what kind of hell was fixing to rain fire down on him. But the man was amazingly short sighted for someone that spent the last year trying to wipe out any trace of the Treadstone and Outcome programs. "For a scientist she turned out to be one hell of a warrior. Sexy as hell the way she took out your pet sociopath."

"She killed a LARX agent," Byer asked incredulously.

"Sure did," Aaron murmured, proud. "It was her idea you know," he gestured to the room around them. "She even sent you a gift," Aaron pulled a small paperback book from one of the cargo pockets on his uniform pants. Tossing it on the table Aaron winked and left the dank cement room.

Byer glared at the dog eared book for a full minute before curiosity got the better of him and he turned it over to study the cover; it was a book written by Elizabeth Massie. "SinEater," he murmured.

Byer knew this was the Lab-rat's way of acknowledging a different book, a subtle threat that turned out, at least to this point, to be an empty one. In a rare fit of frustration Ric Byer through the book across the room and it bounced ominously off the stained wall.

* * *

Marta nervously twisted her hands as she watched Brad Dolen making his way into the hotel. She was impressed with the agility with which the soldier turned lawyer showed as he skillfully eluded his watchers. She had been following him as best she could since he left his office. It seemed as if the powers-that-be assumed he would be an easy person to keep in their net because they only assigned one agent on foot and two in an automobile. Marta had a difficult time following him and she knew where he was headed. She had to smile at the way he had ditched the agent on foot. It was going to sting when that agent had to explain that a man with prosthetic legs out ran him. The car was only slightly more difficult for Dolen, but the man had been a highly decorated Marine and he pretty much embodied improvise, adapt and overcome.

Marta slipped around to the employee parking she used instead of the main lot and quickly made it to her room on the second floor. She had chosen a Ramada because of the open layout and she was able to get a room that overlooked the front parking lot. She did not have long to wait; the front desk rang her phone just as she had instructed the clerk.

"Hullo," she murmured with a British accent.

"Your guest has arrived, ma'am." Jenna, the young woman at the desk was barely twenty-three and in school to become a doctor; Marta had recognized the biology text open on the desk beside the woman, even though it was a newer edition. Offering the girl a tidy sum of money to make sure that she would let Marta know when and if anyone asked about her and inform her when her friend arrived was money well spent.

"Thank you," Marta murmured. "And good luck on your exam tomorrow."

"Thanks," the girl laughed, "I will need it."

"Just remember what I told you about the trick question regarding the autonomic nervous systems function and you will do quite well." Marta assured her with her accented voice. The girl was smart and Marta had enjoyed conversing with her.

"Thanks," Jenna replied, "Good luck with your friend he is kind of cute."

"He is only a friend," Marta laughed. She had her eyes glued on the laptop beside the phone and it appeared that Brad Dolen was already making his way along the covered walk-way. "I must be going and good luck."

"You, too, Evelyn," Jenna offered before hanging up the phone.

Marta watched Dolen as he surveyed the parking lot and then used the electronic card she left for him to enter the room next door. As a safeguard Marta had left new clothes and the keycard in the room she reserved for him, along with explicit instructions to leave everything except the burner phone she sent him in the hotel room. She smiled when he came to stand directly in front of the adjoining room door. With a few keystrokes she was watching the man search the small room. He looked frustrated and Marta could understand his feelings.

Deciding he had waited long enough Marta walked over to the connecting door and unlocked it, pulling out her cell she pressed '2' on the speed dial and a glance over her shoulder showed the man answering his phone.

"Hello," his voice was deep and tight. Obviously he was ill at ease and the little games were getting to him, but he was not rude.

"Thank you for coming, First Sergeant Dolen," she murmured. "I am sorry for all the precautions, but I am afraid I have good reason to be cautious."

"Why am I here," he asked still staring at the closed door. He knew she was there.

"Pamela Landy is an honorable woman," Marta explained, "We want to help you help her but you won't be able to clear her name if she dies; which seems to be the direction her life is headed in."

"She is in a secure hospital," his voice is questioning and his eyes are narrowed.

"Secured," Marta scoffs, "By the very men that will toss their dirty secrets on her before killing her."

"How do you know this," Dolen asks.

"I have access to the computer of one of the program heads," she informed him and watched the computer. She laughed when his eyes widened. "Why do you look so shocked First Sergeant?"

"Where are you," he growled, searching the room for the camera. Finding it he took a step closer to the door.

"You may come in," she informed him, "But only if you did as you were instructed before you came to that room."

"I did as you ask me to do," he assured her as he reached out and grasped the knob. He opened the door slowly and Marta stepped away from him as he entered. She disconnected the cell pushing it into her pocket and gesturing with the small .22 she was holding in the other.

"Please," she murmured, "Shut and lock the door."

Dolen did as she asked and she gestured him to sit at the table. He lifted an incredulous brow as she moved away from him and sat across the room with her laptop between them.

"Dr. Shearing," he nodded and sat looking at her.

"I am sorry for the games," she repeated her earlier sentiment.

"You said you have access to one of the program head's computers," he prompted her. "Isn't there a felony in there somewhere?"

"Oddly," Marta smirked, "When you are the lone survivor of a work place massacre, have your bosses send a team to your home to help you, conveniently, commit suicide and then when you have the audacity not to die, they accuse you of treason and corporate espionage, going to prison for computer crimes seems almost trivial."

"I see your point," Dolen nodded. "What sort of plan do you have?"

"We have access to the information that proves that not only did the men in charge of Treadstone and Blackbriar use their position and program assets for personal financial gain but some of them also have anti-American agendas."

"Can I see this information," Dolen asked.

"That file," she gestured to the file in front of him. "It contains a fourteen page outline of which government employees are less than patriots."

"Fourteen pages," he asked incredulously.

"That is just hitting the highlights," Marta explained, "Originally, the document I created was seventy-three pages long, but Aaron suggested I just touch on the key points for this meeting."

"Aaron being Aaron Cross," Dolen asked as he flipped open the file. Marta did not bother answering him because he already knew that was who she was speaking about; but the way his eyes widened and his fingers turned page after page with increasing speed she knew he was no longer paying her any attention. She watched the Marine swallow and then closed the file. He looked shaken and that was an unsettling prospect for Marta to realize this was hitting the soldier turned lawyer so hard.

"You know some of the people in that file," she murmured, quietly.

"Yeah," he muttered before wiping his hand down his face. "Don the Army liaison to Project Outcome is—was—is a friend."

Marta contemplated the man for a few moments before she sighed and indicated the file, "There is evidence in the larger document that indicates General Greene may not have been happy with the way in which Outcome was closed down. Eric Byer contemplated adding his name to the list of expendable program participants, but in the end he believes that General Greene might be a high profile figure that they can pin this mess on."

Dolen was quite for a long time just staring at the file before him. His voice was contemplative when he said, "If you can get me copies of that evidence," he met her eyes, "I think I might be able to convince Don that it will be in his best interests to help Pamela and you."

"He is pretty well embroiled in this mess," she cautioned, "He might not be as helpful as you think. Especially, because he will know the lengths they will go to make this disappear."

"I'll take my chances," Dolen sighed. "Pamela told me that if I took her case they would try and burn my life to the ground. It looks like she wasn't just being overly dramatic."

"No," Marta agreed, "I am surprised they haven't tried to discredit you yet."

"I think they might find that a bit more difficult than they might think," Dolen smiled.

"How so," Marta asked, confused. Either Dolen was being too cocky or he actually believed they would have no luck torching his character. Dolen leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze with a speculating look. "What?"

"Hypothetically speaking," Dolen began, "What if a certain program's troubles were a little less private than the people in charge originally thought?"

"I don't understand," Marta shook her head confused.

"Jason Bourne," he indicated the file. "The situation with Bourne was brought to the attention of a few select people, almost from the moment Bourne went missing, by one of the program psychologists, a woman, by the name of Nicolette Parsons. An investigation was launched, a very secret investigation."

"Are you part of that investigation," Marta asked.

"I am," he nodded.

"I see," Marta whispered as she stared at the man across from her and wondered if she had made a tremendous mistake meeting with him alone. In the media and everything she had been able to discover about Brad Dolen he was patriot and an honorable man. That could have been her mistake thinking that a patriot would be just as appalled as she had been. Tapping a few keys she pulled up all of the security camera views she had of the hotel. Nothing looked out of place, but she did not trust it to stay that way for long. Raising her .22 and aiming it at Dolen's center of mass Marta closed her laptop and stuffed it into her backpack.

"I am not going to hurt you," Dolen assured her. "You can trust me."

"Forgive me," Marta glared, "There is only one person I trust and he isn't in this room right now."

"We can help each other," Dolen shifted as if to rise, but Marta thumbing the safety off arrested his movement. "My team has been working for years trying to get a hold of the type of information you have here."

"It can't have been hard work," Marta scoffed, "We got this information in under a week."

"I admit," Dolen sighed, "We were working the wrong angle. We had our money on Ezra Kramer and Noah Vosen. Ric Byer seemed like small potatoes compared to those two." Marta looked at the man as if he was insane and when he saw the look in her eyes he shook his head. "My intelligence is not in question," he assured her, "My intel is; one of the other names I recognized is the name of my lead analyst, Keri Jacobs. It was her recommendation that I went by when I began this operation."

"Is she the only weakness in your team," Marta asked without lowering the weapon.

"Truthfully," Dolen sighed, "I don't know."

"Well," Marta murmured, "I think that might be what you need to find out after you get Pamela Landy out of Bethesda."

"She can't leave the hospital," Dolen denied, "She needs constant care."

"Did the doctors tell you that," She asked with an arched brow, "And do you know if they have her interests at heart or someone else's?"

Dolen inhaled sharply, and glanced away. It was clear to Marta that Dolen had not understood the scope of what he was dealing with until that moment. She wouldn't say he was as naïve as she had been but he certainly did have a pair of blinders on. Shaking his head Dolen muttered, "And the scales fell from his eyes."

Marta lowered her weapon and shouldered her pack, "Once you have Landy call me."

"I will," he nodded. "I will have her in under an hour."

"You seem confident," Marta said with a frown.

"These people made two mistakes, Dr. Shearing," he pointed to the file she had given him and expounded, "They killed innocent Americans and they took a dump on my front step. Pamela Landy is a warrior and I won't watch her take one for the home team."

"It seems they piss a lot of people off with those mistakes," Marta declared as she pulled open the door and scanned the area. "Aaron says to tell you that Byer is being held in Bangkok; he says you'll know what to do. If you don't," She stepped out of the door and turned to call over her shoulder, "Try speed dial three."

* * *

Brad Dolen was amazed at the complexity of the conspiracy he and his team were dealing with. Joining the NSA and pursuing his law degree had been a real challenge with his physical disability, but this—well this was like shoveling shit up hill. It just kept rolling back down. Seeing the name of his analyst Keri Jacobs in that file pissed him off and it explained why the hell they were getting nowhere on this whole CIA nightmare.

Dolen stared at the cell phone in his hand and thought about Dr. Shearing's parting words. He thought it was poetic damned justice Eric Byer being detained in Bangkok of all places. He hoped the accommodations were appropriately horrendous. Turning the phone over in his hand he thought about how easy it would be to let the man rot there in that foreign prison, but he really wanted this ass hole to pay for the crimes he committed against America in America.

Unsure, Dolen flipped open the phone and depressed the number three before letting his finger linger over the call button. Taking a deep breath he pressed send and put the phone to his ear. The call connected almost immediately after only half a ring.

"Hello," Dolen said after long moments of silence.

"First," the voice said with a promissory tone, "If you do anything to hurt Marta Shearing I will personally hunt down everyone you ever cared about before coming after you. Is that clear?"

"Clear," Dolen agreed solemnly and then he added a bit of lightness to his voice, "A little melodramatic, but definitely clear."

"Good," the voice murmured, "You have the file?"

"Yes," Dolen nodded, "Dr. Shearing says this is only the tip of the iceberg."

"Yes," the man said and finally humor could be heard in his whiskey rough voice, "Doc tends to be obsessive about research and Byer is pants at security on his home computer."

"One of the reasons we did not look to closely at Ric Byer was because he seemed so unconcerned with guarding anything in his private life."

"He is a narcissist and believes he is impervious to attack." There was a noise in the back ground and Dolen realized that Aaron Cross was in an airport. "What investigation?"

"Does he still feel that way," he asked Cross with a laugh. "I have it on good authority that Byer is in a Bangkok prison."

"I think he might be getting the picture," Cross said and Dolen could swear the man had to be grinning, "His armor took a dent or two but he is remarkably hard headed. What investigation, Dolen?"

"Understood," Dolen thought seriously about not telling Cross about his investigation, but he realized that it was not really something he wanted a government trained killing machine to find out on the sly. "Listen," he sighed, "I already told Dr. Shearing, this but—"

Closing his eyes and mentally stilling his nerves Dolen finally just spat it out, "I work for the NSA." The total quiet on the other end of the phone was deafening, "Don't hang-up, let me explain." Dolen pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it making sure that the line was still engaged. Frowning he put it back to his ear. The total absence of sound was frightening.

"Give me a reason not to kill you," Cross growled over the phone.

"I haven't broken your first rule," Dolen answered promptly, "I have not nor will I ever do anything that will harm Dr. Shearing."

"How deep is this investigation," Cross asked, "who do you answer to?"

"I answer to the Commander and Chief," Dolen informed the man, "I report directly to the President."

"How long," the question was barely audible.

"Since the incident when Bourne went missing," Dolen sighed, "We should have had something actionable before this past year's events. One of my analysts was in your Dr. Shearing research notes."

"This analyst are they the only mole in your organization?"

"I don't know," Dolen sighed heavily, "I would love to sit and chat, but as we are discussing I have a full plate and I need to know exactly what you want me to do about Byer."

"Well," Cross muttered, thoughtfully. "You could call your team together and make sure they all know the bastard is being used as a shower dummy in Bangkok. See who rabbits and follow them."

"You want him back on U.S. soil?"

"Hell, yes, I do." The man laughed, "As fun as it was watching him squirm in that jail cell I want him hear where I can mete out a more—just—punishment."

"I'm pulling Landy from Bethesda," Dolen informed him, "After I get her safe to Dr. Shearing I will wet up the meeting. By the time you are CONUS I should have a few answers for you."

"Do it," Cross ordered, "Just make sure you don't do anything that—"

"That gets Dr. Shearing hurt," Dolen interrupted, "Rule one."

"I'll be in touch," there was amusement in the man's voice when he hung up.

Closing the phone and collecting the file Dolen made his way back to the hotel room to retrieve his belongings. Once there he made a few phone calls. He had a shit load of things to do and places he needed to be but his first stop was Bethesda.


	7. DAY SIX: The Morning

Slaying the Hydra- DAY SIX The Morning

Pulling into the drive way Aaron looked up at the three-story building with something akin to excitement and longing. In all his years he had never really missed a place as much as he had missed this house. The lawn was freshly mown and he could tell the neighbor's son had even taken the time to trim the hedges. It was one of the first thing Aaron did approaching the teen as he mowed his family's lawn and offered him a tidy little sum to make sure the yard was always presentable.

There was a dim light on in the room over the garage and he knew that would be the room Marta set up for Landy's convalescence. The downstairs was brighter and he knew that even though it was nearly one in the morning Marta would be waiting on him. It made him smile, even though he should have wished her tucked safe into bed, because no one ever waited for him to get home. Even in the program they just expected him to deliver his blood and code-in when he finished a task.

He saw a shadow move across the living room window and watched as the curtain twitched. She must have heard the truck pull in and was waiting to see who would get out. Pulling his pack across the seat he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the grass beside the driveway. The curtain fell back into place and the shadow streaked across the window before the front door was opened and Marta was jumping into his arms.

"Did you miss me, Doc," Laughing he pressed a hungry kiss to her lips as he steadied them and wrapped his arms around her pulling her tight against him. She was wearing the thin silk robe she always wore after her shower and from the feel she was naked beneath it. Growling Aaron moved them toward the house. Having a warm, sweet-smelling Marta in his arms was a delicious recipe for hot welcome home sex and he had a feeling the neighbor's would frown on him taking her against the side of his truck.

"You know I did," she sighed, pressing her forehead to his and fisted his hair in her hands. Wrapping her legs about his waist; an act, which very nearly made him change his mind about the side of his truck.

Aaron made it as far as the entrance hall before he pressed her against the wall kicked the door shut and proceeded to strip the robe off of her lithe frame, "God, Doc!" She was beautiful. Not a molecule of make-up on and her hair still damp from her shower and all he could think about was being inside her so deep she would never get him out. Rocking his hips against her naked sex Aaron smiled as he mouth fell open in a gasp and her head arched back to rest against the wall. Guiding her hands over her head he coaxed her to grasp the coat hooks above her.

"Aaron," she whimpered when he pried her legs apart and stepped from between them.

"Shh," he crooned as he slowly ran his hands down her arms and skimming them over her breasts tweaking her aroused nipples as he dropped to his knees at her feet. Pressing an open mouthed kiss to her navel Aaron let his hands trail down her sides to her hips and on to her thighs. Licking his way from her belly button to the edge over her dark curls Aaron met her passion glazed eyes as he hooked her right thigh over his shoulder. "I have you," he whispered against her sensitive flesh and then lathed his tongue along her sex.

The fingers of his right hand plucked at her left breast, pulling and pinching until Marta was keening and pressing her hips tighter against his questing mouth. The left hand kneaded her ass and thigh as she writhed there and her legs began to shake. She came with a guttural cry that sounded almost painful but she just begged for more. Dropping his left hand to his trousers Aaron unfastened them and pushed them off his hips as he lifted her left leg over his arm. Her right leg fell to the crook of his elbow and Aaron pushed himself back to his feet and without preamble thrust deep inside her still quivering sex.

"Honey, I'm home." He growled as he spread her thighs and pressed his hands to the wall beside her, shifting his hips until he was sure he was as deep as he could get.

"Jesus," she whimpered and he smiled as he watched her eyes darken with renewed passion. Kissing her, quickly thrusting his tongue in and out of her suckling mouth in simulation of his cock Aaron grasped her hips and angled them slightly. His next thrust hit that perfect spot inside her that he knew would send her over the edge of another orgasm; he was correct because after only three deep, penetrating thrusts Marta was calling his name and wrapping her trembling arms around his head.

"God," he gasped. She felt so good hot, wet and grasping at his plunging cock. Marta was trembling and limp in his arms as he clutched her to him and thrust artlessly, obsessively seeking his own pleasure now that he had satisfied her. He was so close, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach, he wanted to come so badly, but he wanted to stay here in this moment, in this woman and not have to deal with anyone, anything else.

In the end, nature took its course and Aaron could not stave off his release as he sank to his knees with Marta heavy in his lap. She hummed as he emptied himself within her womb; a sound that she made every time, just as she would whimper discontentedly when he pulled away leaving her empty. Tonight, or this morning, he was in no hurry to pull away, not that he was ever in a hurry to leave the confines of her body.

"Welcome home," she mumbled against his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to his throat with a weak laugh. Aaron smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Come on," he sighed adjusting her in his arms so that he could stand without having to leave her moist heat. Soon enough he would not be able to maintain his possession of her but he planned to be safe in their bed when that happened.

Pamela Landy made her way slowly back to the room Dr. Shearing had set up for her. The sound of the door slamming had roused her from her semi-medicated state and it had taken a great deal of time and effort to make it to the stairs on the second floor. She was exhausted and a little put out after witnessing the bout of Olympic sex taking place at the foot of the stairs. It had been too damned long since she had gotten any pleasure she had not provided herself with.

Idly, Pam wondered if all of the program participants were as intense sexually as this Aaron Cross guy was. It would explain a lot. Nicky Parsons was a beautiful and intelligent young woman and it had always bugged Pam the way she helped Jason Bourne, Was it possible that Parsons, Dolen's star informant, was involved sexually with Bourne? Shrugging mentally, because physically would have hurt too damned much Pamela laid her sidearm on the night stand and then eased into bed. It really did not matter one way or the other, but Pam had to wonder how much what was happening now was a result of what Parsons and Bourne got up to in Paris.

To say Dolen was surprised to wake up with a gun in his face would have been one hell of an understatement. Especially, when coupled with the man the gun belonged to perched on the edge of his bed.

"Bourne," he muttered gruffly glancing around Dolen gasped, "Nicky?"

"Yes," she nodded shifting her eyes to Bourne before meeting his gaze again, "I'm sorry we just dropped in like this Uncle Bradley." He wasn't really her uncle, just a very close friend of her father's but he was glad she still considered him as such. He felt as if he had failed her by not realizing there were foxes in with the chickens in his investigation.

"No, I am happy to see you," he shook his head and started to shift into a sitting position but stilled when he remembered the man with the gun. "May I sit up," he asked.

"Go ahead," Bourne gestured with the gun and Dolen recognized it as his own, "Just don't do anything rash."

Dolen nodded and pushed himself up against the headboard. "Nicky," he smiled, "I am so glad you are okay. Where have you been?"

"Safe," Jason answered before she could do more than open her mouth. "We are here because we saw on the news about what happened to Pam Landy."

"I am afraid," Dolen sighed, "That was my fault. I contacted her when I realized her counsel was a little more interested in getting her convicted of treason than in defending her. Neither Pam nor I anticipated the lengths these bastards would go to be sure they had a viable scapegoat even if they had to kill her to insure it."

"Where is she now," Nicky asked, "We went to Bethesda, but her doctor said you forcibly removed her from the facility yesterday."

"I did," he admitted. "There has been a resent break in the investigation. I received a file from a doctor of one of the other programs that was being closed down due to the exposure of the Treadstone fiasco last year and one of the participants are also being hunted. They warned me that Pamela was just as good to them dead as she would have been alive. She is staying with them because she still needs medical attention."

"Thank you," Bourne said, "She is a good woman and smarter than the rest of the jackasses they set on my trail. I am glad she is safe."

Bourne shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and then nodded to Nicky who relaxed visibly and then came to sit on the other side of the bed. Her hair was once again the honey blond she was born with even if it was very short.

"You look great," he tousled her hair.

"So, do you," she smiled and ducked out from under his hand.

"What is in this file they gave you," Jason asked as he watched Nicky with barely disguised fascination and Dolen made a mental note that he needed to have a little man-to-man talk with the boy.

"The tip of the iceberg," he answered, "If you will let me get my legs on and dressed I'll take you to them. I have a feeling there is going to be one hell of a lot for y'all to discuss."

"I'm going to go take care of the agents watching the house," Jason said, standing up and turning to Nicky, "Help him pack what he will need for the next few days."

"Pack," he questioned.

"You are no longer safe here," Jason informed him as he pulled he walked to the door. "You'll have to stay hidden wherever the others are until the hearings are over."

"And the shit stops flying," Dolen agreed. "How many agents are out there?"

"Six," Jason answered as he slipped out of the room and left the house silently.

"Don't worry," Nicky told him as she pulled a bag from his closet and entered his en suite to begin packing his toiletries. "Jason will make sure they can't follow us. We'll be safe."

"I need to warn them we are coming," he called as he set about strapping his legs on.

"Not yet," Nicky denied poking her head out of the bathroom. "Wait to see what Jason says."

"Okay," he muttered, but he could not help but think surprising Aaron Cross would be almost as enjoyable as having his legs removed; which was not at all.


	8. DAY SIX: The Afternoon

Slaying the Hydra- DAY SIX The Afternoon

Dolen let Jason drive and he gave him directions with the oddest feeling of inevitable doom tightening his belly. It was not the way the other man drove with an alertness that bordered on hyperactive nor was it the circuitous route the man used to drive from Alexandria to Reston; no, it was the certainty that Aaron Cross was going to be pissed when he showed up on his doorstep. After he liberated Pamela Landy from the hospital he met up with Marta Shearing at the hotel again. After a tense discussion about why she really did not want to be revealing the location of the home she shared with Aaron Cross to an NSA agent she eventually relented.

This was probably going to end in blood shed and Brad would bet dollars to donuts that it would be his, but he still pointed out the house as they reached the quiet neighborhood. There was a work truck in the driveway that appeared to be for a private security firm. Hell, Cross was already home; Brad had been praying for the last twenty minutes that his flights were delayed. He really should learn to think before offering to bring government assassins to other government assassins' homes.

Jason didn't waste time parking down the street he just pulled into the driveway and turned off the vehicle. He studied the front of the structure for a few minutes and then he turned slowly to the passengers.

"Exit the vehicle slowly," he advised, "No sudden moves and keep your hands visible." That said he opened his door and stepped out placing his hands on the roof of the car.

"Jason," Nicky murmured as she got out of the backseat. She would have touched him but Jason shook his head.

"Go knock," he told her coolly with his detached manner, "and don't worry I won't let anything happen to you."

"Jason," she murmured again and his eyes softened and he spared her a slight smile.

"Nick, you'll be okay," he soothed.

"It isn't me I am worried about," she hissed and then muttered, "idiot!"

"They will ask you and Dolen in and after they are sure you both pose no threat," he flicked his eyes toward the house, "Cross will come out and we'll—talk."

"Talk," she sighed, "right."

"Come on, Nicky." Dolen stepped away from the car and waited for Nicky to precede him.

Nicky did as Jason told her and slowly made her way to the front door where she knocked. Silence greeted her first knock and nervously Nicky knocked again. This time a voice called out, "Its open."

It was a common enough practice Nicky's own mother had done it a number of times, but the steely voice that uttered the words this time were not some harried mother or negligent teen. The man issuing the invitation had a voice that embodied emotion and right that moment his timbre was calculatingly deadly. Glancing over her shoulder and meeting Jason's eyes for a moment's reassurance Nicky turned back and slowly turned the knob.

The house was old but the door was well oiled and it glided open smoothly when she pushed it gently. The man at the foot of the stairs appeared unarmed, but the stance he was in was a familiar one to Nicky who worked closely with a lot of deadly men. He may not have a gun trained on them but he was still lethal. Right now all his deadly intensity was centered on Brad Dolen as he stood slightly to the right of her.

"Mr. Cross," Nicky said as calmly as she could muster trying to draw the man's attention away from Brad.

Aaron ignored the woman as he pierced Dolen's skull with his penetrating gaze, "You're skating awful damn close to the edge of rule number one, Bradley."

"Bourne is on our side," Dolen said as he stepped closer to Nicky. "Nicky can help with the analysis of the data and logistics."

Aaron let his eyes slide away from the former Marine and onto the woman beside him. She was skittish, but most people would not have noticed the tension in her stance. Aaron wasn't most people and the girl knew that; which was interesting to Aaron. Her stance was relaxed to the untrained eye and her face was open and she tried to radiate calm; it was not working.

"Treadstone logistics and psychological analyst Nicolette Parsons," he watched her reaction as he continued. "Four years under Dr. Albert Hersch and Alex Conklin you started with Treadstone at its inception and were carried over into the Black Briar operation working under Neil Daniels when Alex Conklin was gunned down in Paris. During your stint with Treadstone you handled logistics exceptionally well and acted in a limited capacity as psychologist to the assets being run from your office. It was suspected but never confirmed that you and first gen asset Jason Bourne had a more than professional relationship, but when Bourne's brain got scrambled you did everything you could, in the eyes of your superiors, to apprehend Bourne. Even going so far as to activate and direct several program assets with kill-on-site directives."

"Yes," she nodded. She did not try to explain her position at the time. It was a slippery place she had been perched when it came to light that Jason Bourne was off the reservation. She would not apologize to anyone except Jason for the things she did to survive.

Aaron liked the spine she stiffened when he called her morality into question. Instead of showing shame she toughened up and gave him a look that seemed to say, 'nice shot want another go?' Yeah, she was a moral quagmire, but hell there was not one person involved in the programs that wasn't. Nodding, Aaron gestured them toward the door at the end of the hallway.

"Doc," he called, "Three more for lunch."

Dolen sighed and Aaron watched as he relaxed minutely, putting a hand on Nicky's lower back to guide her toward the kitchen. As they passed he reached out and stopped Dolen with a hand on his arm so he could admonish, "You took a very big chance."

"I know," Dolen nodded.

"Don't do it again," Aaron ordered.

"I won't," Dolen agreed, "Thank you."

Aaron did not bother to respond he just released the man and headed for the door. When he stepped outside he found Jason Bourne conversing with the kid next door, Jeremy. It was a strange sight watching the teen laugh at something the man said. Somehow he had not pictured Bourne as the jocular-type.

"Hey, Jeremy, you did a nice job on the lawn." Aaron called as he approached the pair.

"Charlie," the boy smiled and bounded over to him. "I was just telling your friend here that I got my hands on some nice bougainvillea bushes; they make nice barrier hedges to keep unwanted people from traipsing through the yard." The boy laughed, "My mom planted one underneath the trellis of Kimmie's bedroom."

"I bet that was an experience for some little prick," Aaron laughed. "Thanks for doing such a great job with the yard." He pulled his wallet out and pulled out a couple twenties. "Here is for the lawn and as for the bushes I have to talk to the boss-man," he gestured toward the house.

"No doubt," Jeremy pocketed the money and started backing toward his own yard. "My mom told me to make sure to ask you to remind the Doc to come to her Jewelry party next week."

"I'm not sure she will have the time," Aaron frowned, "What day was it again?"

"Thursday," the boy rolled his eyes, "I think it is really just an excuse for them to all get together drink too much wine, talk about the men in their lives and spend way too much money on gaudy jewelry." Both Aaron and Jason laughed at the look on the boy's face.

"I'll remind the Doc," Aaron waved, with a genuine smile on his face, as the boy turned and jogged back to his house and went inside. Turning back to Bourne the smile slid off his face and his eyes were deadly as he looked the man over. "No, weapon," he questioned.

"I don't really need one to kill you," Jason replied.

"Yeah," Aaron acknowledged, "That is something we have in common."

"One of the few things the program gave me that I appreciate," Jason added.

"That and the _killer_ retirement plan," Aaron agreed.

"So," Jason glanced around with his hands still planted on the hood of the car, "How is this going to go down?"

"Well," Aaron let his eyes glance over the quiet neighborhood before coming to rest on Jason once more. "I would love to kick your ass for being the impetus for the hell that has been raining down on us for the last year, but it would be hypocritical of me to act like I wasn't planning to slip my reigns before they decided I was ready for retirement."

"I did not intentionally fuck up your life," Jason growled, "I was injured and I couldn't remember who the hell I was."

"Or who your girlfriend was apparently," Aaron made the dig to see how Bourne would react. "Of course that probably saved her life; they had eyes on her like she was a damned reality television star. She probably doesn't know this but the bastards even had her bathroom jacked in."

Jason's hands clenched into fists and Aaron almost smiled at the slight sign that Bourne was indeed human. According to all the reports and ground cables they referred to Bourne as a machine in the field, but Aaron had scored a hit against the man's human side and it was comforting to see.

"You watched the recordings," Jason asked.

"Hell, no, but Byer seemed to enjoy the show." Aaron answered. "That man is one stupid ass piece of work that thinks he is fucking Einstein."

Jason was quiet for a while before he nodded and met Aaron's gaze with a calculating smile that Aaron recognized from the mirror. He and Bourne really were cut from the same cloth. "Dolen says you got him detained in Bangkok," Jason alleged.

"Yeah," Aaron nodded, "I have some pretty well connected friends in Palawan that helped me set that up."

"I want my swipe at him," Jason told him coldly. "I can't do that from here."

"He'll be on his way home by this evening," Aaron informed Bourne, "His face will be on every channel and when his plane touches down at JFK there will be so many reporters waiting for him you would think Elvis was back from the dead."

"You know this for sure," Jason questioned.

"Yeah, Edgar is making sure the Thai media and Reuters is on hand for his walk of shame in Bangkok and Dolen took care of chumming the waters here in the States."

"So," Jason questioned, "That is it? You are going to make the world think he is a serial killer?"

"Nah," Aaron scoffed, "That is just making him hurt; the real plan is a little more permanent than that."

"Which is," Jason asked.

"You really can't get more permanent than death," Aaron answered.

Marta came to the door and watched the two men conversing as if they were old friends, but she could see that Jason Bourne was still in the same position he had been in from the moment he got out of the car. Aaron was leaning against the side of the car and the effect was that it appeared natural for them to be posed as they were. Taking a moment to gauge their expressions she wiped her hands on the hand towel she carried.

"Lunch is getting cold," she called and both men turned matching expressions of intensity on their faces. Aaron was the first to relax and look away from her as he turned to the other asset and gestured toward the house.

Seeing them making their way to the door Marta turned and went back to the kitchen. The table was littered with papers and the computer set up at one end, but the side closest to the door was set with plates and bowls. Nicky was seated at the computer with a mug of tomato soup and a rapidly cooling grilled cheese. Pamela Landy was sitting, limply, in a chair to her right with a mug of soup in her hands and Dolen was to Nicky's left dipping his sandwich in the soup in front of him.

When Jason stepped into the kitchen Marta directed him to the chair across from hers, "I'm afraid I don't cook much," she explained when he looked at the bowl of soup and the grilled sandwich beside it.

"No," he shook his head, "This is fine."

Marta smiled and spooned up some of her soup as Aaron sat down beside her. She smiled at him and he took her hand lifting it to his lips.

"Thanks, Doc." Aaron smiled as he picked up one of the sandwich halves and took a big bite.

The room was silent except for the tapping of computer keys and the occasional scrape of spoon on bowl as they ate. For long moments after everyone had finished eating they simply sat staring at each other until Pamela sighed, "This is ridiculous!"

Dolen laughed at her perturbed expression, "We are on the same side," he agreed.

"Okay," Aaron nodded, "Dolen why don't you tell me what you plan to do now that you are on the kill list?"

"I have a meeting set up tomorrow morning, one I can't miss."

"With whom," Marta asked.

"General Don Greene and President Davis," he answered, "I baited the trap like you suggested, "he nodded toward Aaron and then continued, "Jacobs and two others left the office almost immediately after I informed them Byer was in custody and being held for multiple counts of murder."

"Names," Nicky asked. She didn't bother to look up as she sifted through the data streaming through the computer before her.

"Chuck Tibbs and James Charles," Dolen answered. It was killing him to know that men and women he once respected were neck deep in this shit.

"You trust General Greene," Jason asked.

"Yes," Dolen nodded. "I don't think he is innocent in this, but the same can be said about everyone at this table. None of us are innocent bystanders we all have in one form or another been complicit."

"True enough," Aaron nodded. "I think Bourne and I need to be present at that meeting tomorrow."

"I don't think—," Dolen tried to disagree, but Landy spoke up interrupting him.

"Me, too," she set her cup aside and shifted gingerly in her chair. "I think it would be a very good idea to make the meeting as public as possible. Politically, even if Davis is the driving force behind the whole damned thing, which I doubt, it would be a layer of protection we all sorely need."

"I agree," Nicky said from her spot, "Can you get us all into the White House?"

"All," Dolen asked alarmed.

"All," Nicky agreed, "We need to make sure all of our faces are seen as being participants in a Presidential Investigation. Insinuate that Eric Byer has been under investigation for the last few months and that his extracurricular activities include serial torture, murder and treason."

"The President could put a seal on that more permanent solution you have planned," Jason murmured.

"He could also pardon the lot of us," Landy agreed, "That is something we should actively seek."

"Then we are agreed," Aaron asked as he looked from one person to the next and each answered with a definitive yes.

Aaron's cell phone rang and he stood up from the table taking his dishes to the sink before turning to them and saying, "Dolen set it up," he pulled his cell from his pocket and accepted the call. "This is my man in Palawan I need to take it." He stepped out of the room speaking in rabid fire foreign sentences.

Dolen pushed himself to his feet as he pulled out the cell phone Marta gave him and pushed a few numbers, "Well, I have a miracle to work so I hope you will excuse me; lunch was delightful." Dolen left the same way Aaron did leaving the rest of them staring after him.

The silence once again descended around the table as they each contemplated this next step. It had the potential of either setting them free or imprisoning them for the rest of their lives, but to a one they each knew this was the step they had to take.


	9. DAY SEVEN

Slaying the Hydra- DAY SEVEN

Aaron was a light sleeper on a normal night, but having his house full of strangers made it nearly impossible to sleep. Edgar's call that afternoon had heralded a celebratory mood in the house and everyone had gathered around Aaron's computer to watch the streaming video live from Bangkok courtesy of Carlos. Marta popped popcorn and even Bourne had pulled the stick out of his ass long enough to laugh himself silly watching the many facial expressions of Eric Byer as he was publicly humiliated in front of every European news agency and even the odd American correspondent. It was better than the best blockbuster and the media spectacle in Thailand was only over shadowed by the complete frenzy of the American media circling like sharks in bloodied waters when his plane landed on U.S. soil. It had been fucking awesome.

Now, Aaron was lying awake with images of tomorrow's meeting going to hell in every conceivable fashion. Having Bourne in his house only made him want to bar their bedroom door and stand guard over Marta lest the other operative do anything to put her in harm's way. It was fast approaching two in the morning and he still had not slept. Beside him Marta sighed and turned sliding her leg over his as her fingers caressed his belly.

"You need sleep,' she murmured as she pressed her lips to his jaw.

"I know," he sighed and lifted his head to catcher her lips with his. "The house is just too—full."

"Is it your hearing," she asked with a smirk as she propped her chin on his shoulder and let her hand drift beneath the covers over his already stiffening cock. "Or is it your alpha male rearing its primal head?"

"No, no—," Marta began laughing as Aaron growled, attacking her neck blowing raspberries and hauling her on top of him. He licked her ear and she shrieked and squirmed as he did it again leaving a slobbery trail across her entire ear.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, Doc." Aaron smirked as he rolled her beneath him and wrestled her hands above her head smiling down at her.

Marta bit her lip murmuring, "I can tell," shifting her hips temptingly against him.

Aaron shifted his hips until he was sliding inside her causing them both to shudder. "God," he gasped, "this is my most favorite place to be on Earth."

"Mine, too," Marta smiled, pressing herself tight to him and that quick the urgency was overtaken by sweetness and the playfulness was usurped by tenderness. Lifting her head she kissed him softly and worked her hands from under his to cradle his face. "Things have changed so much," she sighed as he slowly made love to her, "since Manila."

"For the better I hope," he let his hand trace along her gloriously warm, naked flesh, "Did you ever think I would be inside you," he asked with a smirk as he snapped his hips to hers making her cry out. Liking the startled rapturous look on her face he went back to his leisurely strokes and once she was humming in pleasure he drove hard and deep, "Answer me, doc."

"Wh—what," she panted, having lost track of the conversation.

Aaron picked up the slow, even pace and leaned in to whisper hotly into her ear, "I used to dream about this," he rocked his hips slowly picking up the speed as he confessed, "sliding inside you," he fit action to words as he continued, "knowing the deepest, darkest parts of you." She was trembling from his voice in her ear, "taking you," his hot breath tickling her throat and his flesh pressed to hers as they writhed together. "Did you," he demanded.

"Yes," she gasped, breathless as she clawed at his back needing something but unable to name it. "Aaron," she mumbled confused and crying out when Aaron rolled them until she was draped across his body sexy, sweat drenched and empty.

"Show me," he ordered, fisting her hair and kissing her deeply.

Marta pushed herself up using her hands pressed to his chest until she was kneeling over him with his hands in her hair. Meeting his intense gaze she wrapped her fingers around his wrists and pulled his hands from her hair and cupped them to her aching breasts as she adjusted her hips until his cock was kissing her sex begging for entrance. He tried to press forward take her waiting warmth, but she shifted away tsking under her breath, "My turn." He growled and she laughed; he asked for this after all.

Holding his left hand to her breast and kneading the aching flesh with his long blunt fingers and she guided the other hand over her belly and between her spread thighs to cover her sex. Aaron watched as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back until he could feel her beautiful silky hair dancing along his thighs. She was a glorious sight taking her pleasure from his hands and the blush that rose from her belly up over her breasts was the most beautiful sight he had ever scene. He knew she was close; she was so easy to pleasure and he knew exactly what would tumble her into ecstasy. Pushing three fingers deep he watched her eyes open in startled wonder as her body clenched and quavered in release.

Flinging his hands away from her Marta shifted her hips and sank onto his weeping neglected cock sharing her body's reactions with him. Even then she did not melt against him as he expected instead she leaned back propping her hands on his thighs as she rode him. The only closeness she gave was her unwavering gaze as she drew him along with her toward a mutually rapturous frenzy. He was so close he could feel it in his innards, that were straining and twisted with the need to pour himself deeper, into her, than he ever had before. Marta must have known because an instant before he exploded she fell forward and placed a biting kiss over his heart, her fingers clawing at his ribs as if trying to crawl inside him.

Aaron's sight was blurred and had gone black for an instant as they came together. He would have been shocked to know he was weeping, but his mind was still tangled with primal images of Marta taking him, marking him.

"I love you," she whispered drowsily as she settled against his chest, "Sleep."

* * *

When Aaron awoke later that morning he was alone and the smell of Marta's waffle breakfast was wafting through the house. Lifting his arm he eyed his watch in the dim pre-dawn light. It was only a quarter past six and Marta must have been up for an hour or more judging by the smells from the kitchen. Light sleeper that he was he had not even stirred when she left their bed; a lascivious smile spread across his lips at the thought that his little scientist had done a great job of fucking him unconscious. Even now his mind was flicking erotic visions of her giving them both pleasure that made his cock twitch with renewed interest.

The voices mingling downstairs wilted any hope of a repeat, but if things went according to the plan they all worked out while cheering and jeering at Eric Byer being mobbed by the press, then there would be a lifetime to stage a reenactment. Showering and dressing for the day Aaron made his way down the stairs and into his kitchen. Marta and Nicky were both wearing matching secret smiles. It seemed that he and the Doc weren't the only ones to take advantage of their down time. Letting his eyes move to the table he found Jason staring intensely at Nicky, only confirming Aaron's assumption that they had used their time wisely. Pamela Landy was studiously not looking at anyone in the room with what could only be a blush on her cheeks. Dolen on the other hand was taking turns glaring at him and Jason with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Aaron," Marta smiled as she poured him a cup of coffee made just the way he liked it. "I figured we could all use a good breakfast."

"You know best," he murmured leaning in to kiss her good morning. There was something new between them since last night; something settled and assured mingled with the love they shared. Aaron could not help deepening the kiss.

"Oh, for the love of God," Dolen exclaimed. "We don't have time for this."

"Suck it up, Dolen." Aaron laughed, "It is my house and we have time. Let's have breakfast."

Breakfast was less awkward than lunch yesterday, but only because four of the six people at the table had other more pleasant things to think about. While the other two could only dwell on how sound seemed to travel in these old houses and wonder if sex had ever been that good for either of them.

Aaron and, strangely, Jason cleaned the kitchen while the rest of them made sure they had everything they needed for their meeting with the President. When that was done they loaded up the cars and began the long journey to West Virginia. Dolen made a few calls to the President the night before and made arrangements to meet with him during his stay in the President's Cottage at America's Resort, The Greenbrier. Neither Aaron nor Jason felt overwhelmingly comfortable with the choice of venue, but they both agreed that as long as they did not get caught in one of the areas of the hotel that doubled as an underground bunker they could use the large campus to their advantage.

Dolen and Landy were going by train straight to the resort and Bourne and Nicky were driving straight through because they were still on the watch list. Aaron and Marta would be flying in to LWB, Greenbrier Valley's Airport. Arriving first Aaron and Marta would procure a cottages preferably on Alabama Row which was situated at the bottom of the man-made hill the President's Cottage was built upon.

Arriving Aaron at the airport and waiting for the resort's promised transportation put Aaron's spine on edge. The area was too open and the horse drawn carriage though romantic was a nightmare for a man trying to keep the woman he loved safe. True Byer was still out of commission, but the man was like a cockroach even with his head cut off he could manage to be a pest. Forking over a fortune for a week's stay when they would only be here half a day was breathtakingly easy. The place was utopia beauty and serenity. Even the outer buildings were gracefully designed and executed.

The wait for the others was taken up by surveillance of the President's Cottage and picking at the wonderful feast they ordered delivered to their room. It cost a small fortune, but that was okay Ben and Tasha Derringer could afford such extravagance and it wasn't as if Aaron or Marta would be paying the bill.

Dolen and Landy were he next to arrive and neither one seemed phased by the luxury that surrounded them for miles and miles. Landy was too tired to care about the silk sheets she lay upon and Dolen had been here before. Nicky and Jason were last arriving only an hour before the President took up residence in the cottage above them.

An hour after the President arrived with his family Dolen's cell phone rang and the entire group froze staring at the device like it was a ticking bomb. Cursing, Dolen flipped it open and answered, "This is Dolen." He sighed and then glanced around the room meeting each expectant face, "Yes, Mr. President. Let me put you one speaker phone, sir."

Dolen didn't wait for permission before pressing the button and filling the room with the voice of the President, "Bradley, this is one fine kettle of fish I am dealing with thanks to your new friends. I have reporters riding my ass about this mess already and you better have a way to get my bacon out of the frying pan!" Pamela rolled her eyes thinking the good-ol' boy act was getting a little thick.

"We do, Mr. President." Dolen assured him, "the people we spoke about are eager to meet with you, sir." Aaron and Jason shared a skeptical glance thinking that Dolen was over stating things a tad.

"Cut the crap, Bradley, I told you to call me Billy." There was a flurry of murmured voices on the other end of the line and then President 'Billy' Davis was speaking to them again. "I have my people securing the Spring House for our little chat."

"No," Jason muttered, gesturing for Dolen not to agree.

"No," the President's voice raised, "I am not used to people disagreeing with me. Who is that?"

"Jason Bourne, Mr. President, and unless I miss my guess your own Secret Service detail would have already nixed the Spring House as a viable location to meet."

"I agree, Mr. President," Aaron moved closer to the phone. "That is a beautiful, picturesque logistical nightmare that I have no intention of dealing with today. There is a secure conference room in the west wing that will work for all of our purposes."

"See," the President's voice demanded, "I told you—didn't I; my head babysitter thought you fellows might be trying to lure me into the open so you can give Pete his chance at sitting at the adult table."

"Billy," the First Lady reprimanded, "Peter Selwick is your Vice President and you shouldn't have picked him if you were gonna do nothin' but belittle him for the rest of your term."

"Ah, hell, Maggie," he grumbled, "You know Pete doesn't take offense. Do you Pete?"

"As entertaining as this impromptu Hee-Haw episode is," Aaron interrupted, "I feel it is only fair to remind you that we are not as stupid as you think we are. Acting like a bumbling fool will only make the government trained assassins nervous so cut the down home country twang and let's get this over with; people are trying to kill the people we care about and I don't feel like dicking around any longer."

There was complete and utter silence on the other end of the line and Dolen who was staring at Aaron like he had grown a second head thought it would be a miracle if the secret service didn't just storm the cottage and take them all down after that performance. Noise on the other end of the line made Dolen jump and look down at the phone in amazed shock. The First Lady was laughing, "Damn," she was muttering between breathes, "Worth every damned penny. You should see the look on his face."

"Well, I am glad you found that amusing, Maggie," the President muttered sounding far less amused "You're the other one, Cross, right?"

"Yes, Mr. President." Aaron answered, with a twinge of apprehension, but it only lasted as long as it took him to meet Marta's eyes. She was too important for them to be playing games.

"Who do you think you are to speak to the President of these United States in such a manner?" President 'Billy' Davis did not sound angry as much as curious.

"I think I am a man that was turned into a four million dollar laboratory rat created during your first four years in office. A man that only wanted to serve his country and keep it safe and because of this I was used to do some pretty damned distasteful things in the name of my Commander and Chief. One of only two surviving program participants; so, forgive me if I don't feel like playing games."

There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the phone and then the President is ordering, "Get your asses up the hill I think my cottage will do for a meeting place," and then the line was disconnected.

* * *

The secret service met them at the bottom of the walk-way and searched them all thoroughly before allowing them to approach the door to the Presidents Cottage. Aaron and Jason shared another look as the men declared them safe; didn't these guys know who they were dealing with. They did not need weapons to kill and do so efficiently.

When they entered the resplendent cottage they found a large table set with eight chairs, two of which were occupied by the President and the First Lady. President Davis stood and offered his hand to each of the women and then Jason and Aaron before gesturing for them to have a seat. Vice President Peter Selwick was seated in a wing-backed chair beside the window.

Another look was shared by Jason and Aaron as they both studied the room and the seating arrangements; Aaron pulled out a chair for Marta and then took the seat closest to the First Lady and Jason seated Nicky before he sat on the President's left. Neither of them pushed their chair under the table as they settled in. Dolen and Landy looked uncomfortable as did Marta and Nicky, but Aaron and Jason both looked as relaxed as if they were simply here to enjoy afternoon tea.

President Davis looked around the table and noted the dynamics of this rag-tag group quickly. Glancing toward his wife of forty-five years he knew what she was thinking the minute her eyes his. These boys, men, could be their sons, were someone's sons and they had been used and abused for having pride in their country. In short she was royally pissed. Winking at her, Billy Davis turned toward the rest of the table. "Bradley, let's see what you've got."

Dolen turned toward Nicky and nodded; she pulled her laptop out of her bag and opened it. Licking her lips Nicky typed in the password and then turned it so that the president could see the screen, "Mr. President my name is Nicollet Parsons. I was the lead Logistics officer for Treadstone Paris and later reassigned to task operatives under the newly minted Operation Black Brier. Almost five years ago an asset for Treadstone was injured and because of the—," she paused glancing at Jason before continuing after he gave her a barely perceptible nod, "Because of the harsh psychological and physical methods of the operation's training the asset, Jason Bourne, suffered psychogenic amnesia."

"Psychogenic amnesia," the First Lady asked her voice steady even though she looked shaky, "What does that mean?"

"Retrograde amnesia is the loss of recent events," Nicky explained, "do to either physical injury to the brain or traumatic experience. Jason's psychogenic amnesia was caused by traumatic experiences that he wished to avoid either consciously or unconsciously."

"I was faced with what I had become; I saw what I was and it was not a pretty sight. In my confusion and stress I literally forgot everything about myself," Jason answered when Nicky faltered in her explanation.

"The Powers-that-be within the CIA knew this within days of Bourne going off the reservation," Pamela Landy added, "They issued kill orders immediately."

"You seem well enough for a man the CIA wanted dead," Davis said with a gleam of what could only be called pride in his voice.

"The underestimated my survival instinct," Jason answered with a small smile, "repeatedly."

"I should say so," Davis flipped open one of the files in front of him. "Bradley was kind enough to compile this information for me. You have been very busy."

"I just wanted to be left alone," Jason growled but he calmed when Nicky gently placed her hand on his thigh.

President Davis nodded as he nudged the file toward Jason and Nicky before opening another one, "This one is a little smaller," he met Aaron's eyes and then Marta's. "Still people's lives were lost."

"Eleven," Aaron said, glancing around the table, "Eleven people doing their duty were exterminated because Ric Byer and his cronies didn't want to have to deal with the fallout if Jason Bourne brought too much scrutiny to their door."

"Six scientists," Marta murmured, "Unarmed and unsuspecting and five soldiers only doing what their country asked of them all dead because of one man's mendacity." Closing her eyes she tried to get the memories of that day so many months ago to stop playing in her mind. "I lived," she whispered and Aaron reached out and linked their hands giving her strength. Taking a deep breath she met President Davis' eyes and continued, "I lived and the next day four people showed up at my door. Two of them held me in a chair, put my gun in my hand and tried to force me to shoot myself in the head. If Aaron had not come when he did they would have—would have—," Aaron lifted her hand to his lips and brushed her knuckles. "Then they branded me a terrorist and have hunted me across the world."

"These documents," Nicky pushed the laptop forward, "Prove that Eric Byer and NRAG are willing to put themselves above innocent Americans."

"Did Eric Byer kill all those women," the President asked.

The occupants of the table all glanced at each other before Aaron finally answered, "The LARX program…Byer knowingly used men and women who lack empathy and sometimes even sociopaths to create what he calls assets without the inconsistencies of the Treadstone agents or the moral and emotional noise of the Outcome assets. He wanted a fleet of emotionless killing machines that did not consider their own well-being above their mission."

"Brad," President Davis snapped. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"I only found out after Cross and Dr. Shearing made contact with me," he flicked his fingers, "We set this up as quickly as we could, Sir."

"Let me see the files," the President demanded, "I want everything."

Nicky passed the laptop to Jason and he set the computer up in front of the President. The oppressive silence that clouded the room was only broken by the tap of the keys as the Commander and Chief scrolled through reading every damning piece of evidence. When he finished he very slowly closed it with shaking hands. Looking at his wife who was trying hard to hide the evidence of her tears he looked at the man to his left.

"Giles," he lifted his hand and immediately a briefcase was set before the President. Opening it Davis pulled out a small stack of official looking documents. Looking them over, he signed each before placing them in front of the rightful recipient. "Under Article II, section 2 of the United States Constitution I can offer you all Presidential Pardons; however, you should know that if you accept this offer it automatically becomes understood that you are indeed guilty."

"That's it," Jason asked looking at the paper in front of him, "It seems too simple."

"This is far from over," Dolen answered, "There is going to be a long drawn out purging of the government before we can close the book on Eric Byer and NRAG."

"Well," Pamela murmured standing up and taking her pardon with her, "I am going to take the money and run, so to speak."

In agreement the rest of them stood up and reached for the papers setting them free but the sound of a round being chambered stopped them all. "Sit down," the order came from the man across the room.

"Pete," President Davis demanded, "What is the meaning of this?"

"My name is Peter you ass," the Vice President growled making the mistake of taking his eyes off of the government trained assassins to aim the weapon in the general direction of the President pulling the trigger.

Marta and the First Lady crying out registered only a moment before Jason and Aaron were across the room disarming and snapping the neck of the Vice President. It happened so fast that the secret service agents in the room only had time to pull their service revolvers. Glancing around Aaron saw no other threats.

"Aaron," Marta called her eyes down cast as she held her side Aaron was at Marta's side in an instant when the red stain blooming on her white blouse registered. Catching her up in his arms Aaron headed for the door only to be stopped by a hand on his arm, "Wait," it was Giles and he was gesturing Aaron toward an opening in the wall behind the chairs the President and First Lady had been sitting in. "There is a medical facility and living area beneath the Cottage in case the First Family ever need medical treatment while vacationing."

Aaron followed the man and realized that they were following the President who was similarly cradling his wife to his chest as he trotted down the steps into a brightly lit medical facility. Where nurses seemed to appear out of nowhere taking Marta and Maggie from concerned arms and whisking them into treatment rooms.


	10. DAY EIGHT: The Beginning

**AN: Just a neat little factoid I thought people would find interesting…**

While searching for a place to meet with the President I looked at the map, specifically the area surrounding the District of Columbia, and chose completely at random West Virginia. I was hoping at best to be able to find some fictional resort in the rural hills but was completely shocked to discover The Greenbrier, America's Resort, beautiful and golf seems to be the main activity. I figure golf is probably a Presidential pastime…LOL While studying virtual maps of the resort I stumbled upon a YouTube segment that disclosed that The Greenbrier is not only a resort but it has an entire underground bunker system built beneath the West Wing of the hotel to house the government in case of nuclear war.

( www. youtube watch?v=DNxGcKcQQxM )

**Slaying the Hydra DAY EIGHT**

Aaron sat slumped beside Marta's bedside her cold hand cradled between his; her fingers were small compared to his long digits, delicate and in this artificial light they look frail. The rest of their party had gone back to the cottage hours ago; the secret service having taken over the west wing of the hotel and all of the outlying areas and assuring the group's safety. Marta was sedated but she had awakened for a few short minutes after they moved her into this private underground hospital room; just long enough to ease Aaron's mind. The doctors had tossed around explanations and terms that made no sense to him even with his improved cognitive skills. It was only after Marta woke up and murmured his name with a slight smile reaching for his hand that he felt the ice that had shrouded his heart begin to crack and fall away.

A shadow fell across her bed and Aaron was on his feet in an instant but he settled back into the chair when he recognized the President standing in the open door. The older man looked as haggard as Aaron felt and his good ol' boy demeanor was absent as he stepped into the room and glanced back into the hallway before closing the door after him. He stood there for so long, his eyes on Marta, that Aaron began to get uncomfortable.

"Mr. President," he murmured, drawing the man's attention even though he continued to watch Marta.

"Maggie has never been sick a day in her life," the President finally muttered, glancing briefly at Aaron as he spoke. "The only time I have ever seen her in a hospital bed has been when she delivered our three sons." Aaron watched the man's body language and took in the set of his shoulders and the clenching of his fists. "Now," the man's voice broke but he quickly controlled it as he continued, "The doctors aren't sure if she will ever fully recover."

"I'm sorry," Aaron told him and he could only feel relief that Marta was going to make a full recovery, but he was sure the President wasn't here just to impart that bit of history. Aaron could have asked him why exactly he was here instead of with his wife, but he knew the man would speak when he was ready and he was right.

"This man Byer," President Davis said quietly, "You know where to find him?" Aaron straightened in his chair and his full attention immediately settled on his Commander and Chief.

"Yes," he nodded refusing to say more than that because when everything was said and done he wanted to be able to go back to his life with Marta in their little house in the suburbs.

"I have read," the President sighed and met Aaron's gaze for the first time and held it as he spoke, "Everything you and Mr. Bourne have been asked to do for your country."

"Yes, sir," Aaron murmured, but he did not give away his nervousness as he realized this was the only man in America that could exonerate him and the rest of them for their parts in what was done under the auspices of the clandestine operations of NRAG.

"There is one thing I want," the President glanced away and said after a lengthy pause, "Something that doesn't seem to be beyond your skill—something that might be frowned upon—something permanent."

"Well," Aaron murmured letting his eyes fall on Marta's sleeping form, "That sounds like something that should never be committed to paper."

"Exactly," Davis murmured, "You'll need this." He pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to Aaron before he turned to leave the room. At the door he stopped and met Aaron's eyes as he said, "I will see that things here are taken care of as if they were my own."

"Thank you," Aaron nodded. "I hope the First Lady gets better soon." President Davis nodded and stepped out of the room without another word. Aaron slipped his hand from Marta's and unfolded the paper staring in shock at what he saw.

"What is it," Marta murmured weakly, startling Aaron for a moment.

"Hey," he smiled dropping the paper onto the blanket as he stood up and kissed Marta's slightly chapped lips. "You need sleep," he murmured.

"I know," she smiled, as they mirrored their conversation from yesterday's early hours romp in their bed back home.

"I was scared," he muttered and his voice was testament to the truth of that confession.

"I know," she murmured, "what did he give you?"

"You're like a dog with a bone," he sighed.

"Trying to say I look like a dog," she asked with a mock glare startling a laugh from Aaron.

"No," he shook his head and kissed her lips again. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"Just trying to change the subject," she glared for real this time and Aaron sighed heavily as he picked up the paper and turned it for her to see.

"It is a post-dated Presidential Pardon," he answered.

"When," she asked.

"It has tomorrow's date on it," Aaron answered. She studied the document and then her eyes met Aaron's. They both knew what the piece of paper meant and it was a tribute to Marta's understanding of Aaron and who he was that she did not question whether this was right or wrong. Deep down he knew she would not feel safe with Byer and his ilk out there able to come after them at any moment.

"Be safe," she said after a long time contemplating what he was saying. "I love you."

"I love you more," he answered.

"Impossible," she shook her head.

"Nothing is impossible when it comes to you and me, Doc." He kissed her and caressed her hair out of her face. "I'll be back soon."

"You better," she ordered as he stepped away from the bed and moved to the door. He stopped at the door and turned back to look at her one last time before he went to finish this new mission.

* * *

Aaron is perfectly still as he watches his mark duck out of the hotel he checked into with a duffle bag in his hand. It makes Aaron smile the fidgety way that Byer is acting as he makes his way to the parking lot. One phone call from an anonymous caller had every reporter in a hundred yard radius racing to the NRAG building across town, but it was still funny watching the man sneak around trying to avoid the ravenous and nonexistent mob of reporters.

Aaron watches as Byer pulls his keys from his pocket and presses a button opening the trunk. The duffle bag is stowed in the trunk before Byer stops to really study his surroundings. It must have finally registered that there are no reporters clamoring for a comment or hassle him for a picture.

"This is for Marta," Aaron murmurs taking a smooth breathe as Byer turns to face his sniper's blind. Aaron squeezed the trigger sending a round into the lower left quadrant of Byer's side. Quickly advancing another round into the chamber Aaron watches as various emotions flit across Byer's face as he adjusts his aim targeting a little higher this time. It is strange watching realization dawn over the man's features as Aaron takes another deep breathe he fires on the inhale as Byer's lips form one word.

Breaking down his rifle, starting with the suppressor and working quickly to separate each piece and pack it into his canvas roll Aaron shoved it into the backpack at his side. He is nearly a mile away from the now cooling body of Eric Byer so he shrugs the back onto his shoulders and calmly exits the hotel room he usurped to hide his position. Stepping out onto the street Aaron pulls on a Washington Nationals baseball cap and joins the rest of the tourists as they converge on the capital city.

* * *

**AN: **Well, this is the end of Slaying the Hydra...I would like to thank everyone that stuck with me reading and reviewing this story. I might add an epilogue just to show my appreciation, but I am really not sure the story needs it. If you want a hot little epi let me know. Thank you for reading...Sidnea Blackstone.


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